


The Music Room

by FivePips, jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blowjobs, Finger & Hand Kink, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Longing, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No age gap, Pianist!Remus, Smut, Student/Teacher, Victorian era, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FivePips/pseuds/FivePips, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Sirius is assigned a new piano tutor after the passing of his former one. He’s expecting someone equally as old and boring as his last tutor, but when Mr. Lupin walks through the door, Sirius is thrown into a world of feelings he had never explored before.





	The Music Room

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sirius is obsessed with his piano teacher Remus.  
We saw this prompt and instantly knew we had to write it! Big thank you to our beta lunchbucket. Chels, you were fabulous and a huge help with all of the piano-speak!  
Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Sirius sat at the grand piano in his parent’s music room, his fingers dancing through scales and arpeggios, his foot pressing at the pedal beneath in perfect timing. He expected his piano teacher to be here by now; Mr. Slughorn was always prompt at best and never usually liked to keep him, or his mother, waiting, but he was late today. At the end of the scale Sirius stretched his fingers out in front of him to relieve the tension, then set about the scales again. Practice made perfect, of course.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the room, and his mother’s shadow darkened the doorway. Sirius glanced up from his practice, the resonance of the keys ringing throughout the walnut paneled room, and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“You missed the sharp on the second C,” was all she said as she laced her fingers over her stomach and watched him. Her dark grey dress came up in high ruffles around her neck and swept down to the floor, heavy and luxurious.

He furrowed his brow, he was sure he didn’t, but didn’t argue as he turned his whole body towards his mother. “I won’t next time.”

“Better not,” she said curtly, drawing a few steps closer. Her face had that pinched sort of look to it, like she was sucking on a lemon. “Mr. Slughorn won’t be arriving for your lesson today, nor teaching you any further, it seems.”

Even if the man had been a bit bumbling and annoying, Sirius liked him. He was rather lenient and let Sirius experiment when he wanted to. It wouldn’t surprise Sirius if his mother had decided to get rid of him for the qualities Sirius liked. “Why not?”

His mother strode to the piano and flicked through the sheafs of sheet music there. The lace trimming on her sleeve fluttered as she did. “He was found dead early this morning.”

Sirius frowned, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t as if they were friends or family, but Sirius was sad. He knew his mother wouldn’t be pleased with him expressing that since he was _ just _ his piano teacher. “Oh.”

She let out a sigh as if Mr. Slughorn’s death had ruined all of her carefully orchestrated plans. “Yes. Thankfully the housekeeper’s son is apparently rather talented. She’s going to fetch him from the village imminently.”

“The housekeeper’s son?” Sirius looked up in surprise. His mother was allowing the _ housekeeper _ to let her son in the house to teach Sirius?

“Yes. Weren’t you listening? He’s performed in London, several times.” She finally looked away from the sheet music and pinned Sirius with a cold stare. “Perhaps he can pass on some of that talent to you.”

Sirius bit his cheek to stop a retort coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t in the mood to feel the wrath of his mother today. “Yes… perhaps…”

“One can only hope.” She flicked through another few sheets of sheet music before sighing. “So keep practising until he gets here. I’ve instructed Mr. Lupin to make sure you behave properly.” She raises one elegant eyebrow. “Mr. Slughorn was rather… lenient, if I recall.”

“Yes, mother.” He looked back to the keys.

“Very good.”

The sound of her footsteps echoed back down the hallway.

Sirius stretched his fingers again and went back to his scales, making sure he hit that C Sharp flawlessly every time just to spite his mother. He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard footsteps down the hallway again, a little slower and heavier, because the music room always made time run a little differently. He imagined it had been a while with the way his fingers were sore.

When Sirius looked up to the door, he found a man who couldn’t have been much older than himself. _ Mr. Lupin _ it must have been. He was just as tall as Sirius, wearing olive green trousers with a matching cutaway. Under the coat was a matching waistcoat over a white shirt. There was nothing frilly about it, all very practical. There were tatters on the edges of the sleeves of his coat, and it looked as if his trousers had been mended more than a few times.

“Um, hello, Mr. Black.” His voice was deep, but sounded rather unsure.

Sirius rose from the piano bench, stepped around to greet him, then wondered how exactly he _ should _ greet him. Mr. Lupin had to be around his age and usually he would shake someone’s hand but it felt a little odd to do that here. After a pause, perhaps a moment too long, he stuck his hand out. “Sirius Black.”

“Remus Lupin, pleased to meet you.” He shook his hand, his long fingers wrapping against Sirius’ hand.

Sirius nodded. Mr. Lupin’s—Remus’—fingers were warm in his palm and his handshake was firm. Remus’ hands were slender, his fingers tapered, the blue of his veins over the tendons across the backs, a little sun-weathered but not at all like they’d seen hard work in recent years. Sirius stared at them for a long moment before he looked up to the other man’s face. Remus’ face was softer compared to Sirius’ sharp aristocratic features. He must be a very good pianist, Sirius thought. He pulled his hand back and clasped it behind his back with the other, not quite sure what he was meant to do here, how much his mother had instructed Mr. Lupin.

“This is all very short notice, I apologize for not being prepared. Could you maybe tell me what you were working on with… Mr. Slughorn, was it?” He looked over at the piano.

Oh. Yes. Piano lessons, that was why they were here.

Sirius back-tracked to the piano and leafed through the music on the stand. “Oh, we were going through the aria of the _ Goldberg Variations _ . Yes, Mr. Slughorn. He is— _ was _ a fan of Bach.”

“That’s a good one, yes. Do you enjoy it?” Remus stepped closer to Sirius.

“Um…” Sirius straightened as he stepped closer, eyes flickering all over the other man. He held the sheet music out to Remus incase he might want to see the notations he and Mr. Slughorn had made. “Yes, it’s challenging to play, but I enjoy that.”

“You must be very talented to play this.” He took the sheet.

Sirius smiled. His eyes drifted to Remus’ fingers, curled around the edge of the paper. He wanted to see Remus play the piano. He wanted to see him sit at the piano and make it _ sing _. “Thank you.”

“Can you play it for me? I’d like to see where you are at with this.” He offered the paper back to Sirius.

“Yes, okay.” Sirius took it back, turned around and settled on the piano bench. He set the papers down, feeling a little mechanical, trying to get this strange feeling in his stomach under control, compulsively adjusted his sleeves, then set his fingers against the keys. 

Remus stood just behind Sirius, he could feel him hovering right over his shoulder.

Sirius took a deep breath and started playing. He concentrated on his fingers, letting them work across the keys, determined to play every note perfectly for his new teacher. Sirius had his lower lip between his teeth in concentration, every beat counted perfectly, every pique of the music reached just as the notations said, his back straight, hands in perfect positioning. It wasn’t a particularly difficult song, just by looking at the notes printed on the paper. Rather, it was the technique that made it such a challenge for most pianists, as was the case for nearly all Bach compositions. Technique was Bach’s claim to fame, and why he was so heralded by piano teachers everywhere these days. But technique was something that made sense to Sirius, something his brain had always been able to easily wrap itself around, so he found that he didn’t mind that aspect of it at all. 

However, the ornamentation in the aria was something that really bothered Sirius, the ambiguity of it a glaring juxtaposition to its purpose of launching the harmonic basis of the entire piece. The parameters of the _ Goldberg Variations _ were straightforward enough, yet, the aria was not written explicitly -- trills and turns were just _ there _ for the pianist to feel and do and interpret as he’d like. But Sirius did not like ambiguity, did not like the agency that Bach had apparently decided to offer up for the pianist to take and turn into his own. Sirius found that he could never get that right.

He was a little frustrated when he let the final notes of the phrase ring out and pulled his hands back into his lap. Sirius took a moment to let out a long breath through his nose, not quite sure if he should turn to face Mr. Lupin or not, whether the other man would comment or not.

Behind him, Remus cleared his throat and the boards creaked under his feet as he shifted. “You are very talented on the technical aspects of playing, Mr. Black.”

“Thank you,” Sirius replied, glancing over his shoulder at Mr. Lupin, only seeing a slice of him in his periphery.

“You’re… what do you feel when you’re playing the piece?”

Sirius furrowed his brow. “Feel?”

The man let out a bit of a sharp laugh. “Yes, Mr. Black, what’s going on in your brain—your heart when you play the piece. It’s a bit of a wonder, this piece, isn’t it?”

“I’m… concentrating on the music,” Sirius replied, turning back and setting his fingers on the keys for something to do.

“Yes, I understand that, but you should be feeling something. Particularly from this piece -- the way that the tragic variations fuse seamlessly into the breathlessly comic. The way that simple scales become energy and joy and enthusiasm. Pain. Happiness. Anger. _ Love _. Everything. Music is about emotions.” Remus walked so he was standing at the side of the piano. “If you feel nothing then you’re going to be too… mechanical.”

“Right.” Sirius was aware that word came off a little harsh, but he wasn’t sure how else he was meant to answer that. He didn’t feel anything when he played the piece, he concentrated on the music and getting every note perfect. Bach was perhaps the most mechanical composer, and yet Sirius felt that Remus didn’t mean the comment to be taken as a compliment. He glanced up to Remus, taking in his profile, letting his eyes linger and drift over the shapes of the other man’s face.

“I —can I show you what I mean?” He gestured to the piano.

Sirius nodded. Yes, _ yes _ he wanted to see Remus play. After a moment he shifted to the side and stood up on the other side of the bench. “Yes, feel free to.”

With a smile, Remus sat down at the bench then took his coat off, setting it next to him. He rolled up his sleeves then set his fingers on the keys. Without even looking up at the music, Remus sank into the song. It was the same that Sirius had played moments ago, but it seemed so different now. So much more _ alive _ , Sirius thought, as if there was something more behind it Sirius felt a little helpless as the melody surrounded them fully — wrapping both of them _ together _ _ — _invoking more than just his sense of hearing, and Sirius began to think that perhaps Remus could be right about music and feelings and all that. 

The music had more depth than when Sirius played it, even though Remus’ hands were the same, hitting every note, his fingers dancing across the ivory keys, pressing and slowing then speeding and flittering. His long, tapered fingers made it all look so effortless and easy, every movement Sirius needed to choreograph in excruciating detail in his mind so smooth and flowing. He was playing the same notes, but it sounded so different from Remus, so rich,and so deep, as if it were a story that Remus were recounting. Sirius found himself wanting to look away because it almost felt too personal, like a self-reflection that he had no business being privy to here in this private room.

As the aria came to an end he dropped his hands and turned to Sirius. “Did you hear the difference?”

Sirius nodded, a little dumbly. “Yes… yes, I hear it.”

“You need to tap into your emotions. I hate to sound like a complete whoreson zed, but it’s true.”

Sirius laughed before he could stop it spilling from his mouth, taken aback by Remus’ language, vaguely enamoured by it, and nodded. “Right, okay. How do you suppose I go about that then, Mr. Lupin?”

“Think about the last time you really felt something,” he suggested, sliding down the bench then gesturing for Sirius to sit.

Sirius slid into the seat, adjusting his sleeves again. Remus was sat quite close next to him and Sirius wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. _ The last time you really felt something _. Sirius wasn’t sure. Most of the time Sirius kept his head down and did what was expected of him. What kind of emotion was he meant to feel when playing this piece? He thought of the easiest emotion to access, the feeling of tenuous safety and acceptance he got when he played chess with Regulus in front of the fire in the parlour room. Peace was an emotion, wasn’t it?

He set to playing again, trying to _ feel _ the music and not concentrate solely on the notes and the beats, the ornamentation and the structure. He tried to just let it flow from him, to give it depth like Remus had. But it felt a bit empty, like he was reaching for something that he didn’t at all understand, or trying to communicate in a language of which he had never learned a single word. Sirius knew several languages, but he knew none of this. When Remus played, Sirius felt as if he barely knew _ English _. The aria came to a close and Sirius left his fingers on the keys, his gaze dragging along to Remus, to seek his opinion.

Remus’ expression was neutral, completely closed off and unreadable. “That was a bit better, but it’s still lacking that… spark.”

Sirius nodded curtly. “Of course.”

The man’s arm came up to touch Sirius’ forearm. “You need to take the last time you had some strong emotion and just pour it out here.” He removed his hand quickly.

The touch of his fingers left a warm imprint on Sirius’ arm through the fabric of his shirtsleeves. Sirius stayed very still as he drew his hand back, eyes flickering between Remus’ face and his hand for just a moment. “Of course.”

“Do you say more than _ of course _?” Remus’ lips curled into a smile.

Sirius blinked. “Pardon? I…” He shook his head, looking back to the keys instead of staring at the other man’s mouth. “Yes, of course I—_ oh _ for Heaven’s sake.” Sirius couldn’t keep the smile from his face as the blush fought across his cheeks. “I’m not sure what to say, is all. Mr. Slughorn just used to let me practise and practise.”

“Oh, did that work better for you?” Remus shifted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No. He was frightfully boring.”

“Ha! I probably shouldn’t laugh.” Remus made a face. “I think you’re very talented, Sirius, and you could probably play anything you wanted.”

Sirius nodded. “I feel as if there’s a second phrase to that sentence.”

“You won’t be getting many bookings if you’re putting no feeling behind it.”

“Only,” Sirius started, like he was agreeing with the other man, because he did have a point, “I’m not sure I know how to do that, frankly.”

“You must be passionate about something. Have you ever been in love? Been absolutely enamoured with someone?”

Sirius’ eyes widened a fraction. That was an odd question for a piano tutor. “Yes, I believe so.” His thoughts drifted back to Miss McKinnon, the young woman he’d met at a ball when they were youngsters, and for years they grew close, did all the things teenagers coming into adulthood together did, saw each other often, daily if possible, spoke of everything, and sometimes did not speak at all. Sirius thought he might even marry her for a while before her father died and her mother had to move back to Paris. So yes, he thought he’d been in love, but he failed to see how that was related to Bach’s _ Goldberg Variations. _

“How did you feel with that person?” Remus questioned. “Could you write your own music about those feelings?”

Sirius furrowed his brow. “I… I imagine I could, yes. But, pardon me, I don’t see how this will help with the aria.”

“Well, when you play think of that.” Remus frowned, standing up from the bench. “Why don’t we run some drills.”

“I… all right, then.” Sirius adjusted his sleeves then centered himself on the bench now the other man had vacated it. Something in him breathed a sigh of relief at the distance between them, so that he could _ think _ but he also missed the warmth of Remus’ thigh near his. _ Of course _ was what he wanted to say, but Remus has already teased him with that.

“Let’s try some scales.”

Sirius nodded curtly. 

He practised until his fingers were stiff, until he could see black and white keys when he closed his eyes for a moment. He could tell he was getting sore when his form slipped, his palms dropping, wrists awkward. Part of him cursed Mr. Slughorn for going and _ dying _ because Remus had seemed fun at first but now he was making Sirius run drill after drill.

“Your hand position needs to be…” Remus reached around him and repositioned Sirius’ fingers. He tapped his fingers lightly under Sirius’ wrists and nudged them upward until Sirius lifted them higher, perched above his fingers now. “Like this.”

“Oh,” was all Sirius could get out, his eyes flickering from the keys to Remus’ hand on his, his fingers on Sirius’ pulse. He hoped the other man couldn’t _ feel _ how rapid his heartbeat had become all of a sudden. He didn’t want to move and dislodge this. “Thank you.”

Remus’ touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away. “Okay, again.”

The scales came easier that time, flowed from Sirius’ wrists, through his fingers, like he didn’t have to think about them so hard now as he thought of Remus’ fingers on his hand, under his wrist, guiding his hands across the keyboard.

“That was better, one more time through.”

Sirius nodded again, emboldened by that set, and put his fingers back to the keys.

* * *

Mr. Lupin came every Monday and Thursday from that day onwards, and Sirius found he was looking forward to those lessons, to the music room, more and more.

He arrived early that Thursday and sat at the piano, thinking back to Monday, remembering Remus’ deep voice, growing surer and surer the longer he was here, remembering his hand on Sirius’ arm or his fingers adjusting Sirius’ on the keys. Sirius had to admit he had been spending more time than strictly appropriate recently thinking about his piano teacher. So much so, he could feel his heart rate speeding up, his breathing going a little shallower, his whole body reacting, the throbbing in his groin growing more and more insistent the more he thought about the other man.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Black.” Remus’ voice broke the silence that had enveloped the room.

Sirius jumped, fighting the instinct to press his hands into his lap and make it so damn obvious. He managed a glance to the doorway then looked swiftly back to the sheet music on the stand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin.”

“Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”

“Oh. No, I’m absolutely fine, thank you. It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?” Sirius shifted on the stool, categorically refusing to stand up to open the sash window beside the piano. That would make things even worse. If he could just stop his thoughts running away with Remus…

“It’s rather cool in here, as it is outside and there’s not a fire on in here.” Remus’ brow pinched. “Are you feeling ill?”

“No, no, I’m quite fine, I’m sure. Thank you.” Sirius looked back to the sheet music; he couldn’t _ look _ at Remus right now, or else he’d stand up, stride over to him and kiss him on the mouth and he’d never thought about doing _ that _ with another man before.

“Let’s run some scales then we’ll play some music, hmm?”

That _hmm_ made Sirius feel hot all over and he didn’t want to—didn’t think he _could_—move his hands from his lap to actually play. Remus was his _piano_ _tutor_, for Heaven’s sake, Sirius couldn’t get through lessons like this. He risked another glance up from the sheet music to look at Remus’ face.

As usual, Remus never gave anything away with how he was looking at Sirius. “Go on.”

Sirius set his fingers to the keys, letting out a long breath through his nose. Every time at the beginning of a lesson he found it hard to just _ feel _, as Remus said. It always took him a moment to sink into it, probing unfamiliar territory. At the end of an F Major scale, Sirius paused, took a deep breath, and glanced up from the keys. “Pardon me for asking, but, how old are you?”

“Twenty.” Remus leaned against the side of the piano within Sirius’ view. “Why, Mr. Black?”

Remus had called him Sirius that first day, but he hadn’t since then. Sirius swallowed, glancing from the keys to him again for the barest of moments. It was awful that his first thought was _ not so old for this to be wholly inappropriate. _ But he couldn’t say _ that _. “Just curiosity. Mother said you’d played in London yet you barely seemed older than me.”

“Yes, I spent some time there playing. I was rather successful, but I had to return home after my father passed.” Remus moved around to sit on the bench next to Sirius.

Sirius paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. “Oh. My condolences.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “You’re eighteen, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be a pianist?”

Sirius had never really thought about the answer to that question. He’d taken the lessons simply because they were expected of him. Could he imagine himself in concert halls in London? Probably, if he had the skill for it. “I… I suppose I would rather like it, yes.”

“You’re very talented, Mr. Black.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said softly, turning to look at Remus properly. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering down to the other man’s hands, folded in his lap. “Would you play a piece, for me?”

“Oh, really? Why?”

Sirius smiled, going for charming. “When you played last, it helped me understand what you mean when you say you feel the piece, Mr. Lupin.”

“Ah, I see.” He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tan forearms.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Sirius shuffled to the side, not wanting to move too far away from Remus; he wanted to be able to see all of this, to watch Remus’ fingers on the keys.

“Do you like Chopin?”

_ Did he like Chopin? _ Sirius smiled. The Polish composer who was the first to write the ballade and who had enriched popular dance by composing a far greater range of melodies and expression? It felt like a silly question. Didn’t _ everyone _ like Chopin? “Yes, very much so,” he said instead, wondering which of his pieces Remus would play.

Remus’ long fingers were positioned on the keys for a moment before the room was filled with a sudden burst of speed and lightness, but the melody was sinister. Sirius recognized it immediately as _ Etude Op. 10 No. 4 _ and Remus was playing at a pace that Sirius would have felt was impossible had he not been witnessing it with his own eyes. 

It was intimidating to watch, to say the least. Intimidating and incredible and Sirius couldn’t take his eyes away as Remus as his hands moved across the keys; he wondered how that level of coordination was even human. He tried to keep his expression neutral as he watched Remus’ hands dance over the keys, his thumb treating the black keys as if they were just normal white ones as he hit every note perfectly and filled the music room with a melody that simultaneously bubbled with life and spurted out flames.. Sirius found his breathing getting a little shallower just watching Remus like this, so completely in his element, implausibly competent, and, on top of everything else, playing only for Sirius. 

His fingers flew over the keys, stretching from one end of his reach to the other, dancing by the lead of his wrists. Sirius pressed the flat of his hand between his knees and watched, thinking he might know what it meant to feel the music now, he could even see it, in his own way. 

The climax approached powerfully, and Sirius imagined ocean waves, breaking on a rocky coast, rushing, roaring, climbing, jumping, crashing without a single moment of rest. Grim and restless, yet somehow beautiful. A fascinating interplay. 

As Remus brought them into the recapitulation, Sirius saw the waves begin to settle, dissolving back into the colored foam of the ocean. But the expected calm didn’t come. Remus still didn’t slow, but instead brought in a new thunderous sound with his right hand to replace the intensity that his left had left as it fell into the background. Yet always, even in ebbing, the waves never fully left.

With an abrupt flourish, Remus finished. He let his hands rest on the final keys for a moment and inhaled and exhaled slowly. Recovering, Sirius thought, even though he had appeared to play it so effortlessly, like the eye of the storm as everything he created whirled around him thunderously. And then, after a minute of silence had passed, he looked back up at Sirius. “That’s my favorite to play.”

“I can see why,” Sirius said, a little dumbly because he thought of the blood in his body might have relocated south at the absolute expertise he had just witnessed.

“Do you have a favorite piece?” Remus smiled, standing up.

“None that make me feel as that does, no.” Sirius stared at the keys as if he could see after-images of Remus’ fingers there, after-images of dark waves surging up and down, threateningly, menacingly, yet beautiful in the chaos that they created. And the fear. “I usually just play what I’m asked to.”

“What are you passionate about, honestly? I’m not sure why I’m here if I’m not going to be able to make you any better. Your skills and technique needs little fixing, but I can’t fix what’s in your heart.” Remus paced behind him, feet heavy on the floorboards.

Sirius felt a little tremor of anger in his stomach. _ You’re here because my mother pays you _, he thought for a moment before remembering that snapping at this man won’t help him at all. He blinked a few times, thinking about passion, about emotion, then it hit him, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Sometimes, when Sirius couldn’t sleep, he would come down to the music room in the dead of night, shutting every door between there and the rest of the house so the sound wouldn’t carry. He’d draw back the drapes the staff shut every evening, let the moonlight pour in and played the only song it felt appropriate to play in moonlight. Perhaps that was the emotion Remus was looking for. He closed his eyes, not needing the sheet music this, nor needing words to explain himself, hoping his playing would do it for him.

The _adagio __sostenuto_ of Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_ was slow and quiet but its deep haunting tones seemed to speak to Sirius in a way no other piece did. The slow start brought a nocturnal scene into the room, like a funerary procession, shrouded in silver light. It sounded like a lamentation, and it felt like a lamentation inside of Sirius as he played; for what he wasn’t sure, and yet, there it was. Somber and steady. Sad. And then the right hand picked up with tinge of lightness and sweetness, but that foreboding nature still remained, and Sirius felt a connection to it in a way that would be impossible to articulate in words. But it was there, the connection, buzzing through him as the heavy melody filled the room around the two of them—or, interchangeably, as Sirius’ emotions filled the room around them. It felt painful, to feel whatever it was inside of him begin to bubble up and somehow communicate through Beethoven’s voice, but Sirius thought he liked that more than just a little. 

He faded off somewhere after a few minutes, letting the resonance of the notes linger around them as they faded into nothingness. Sirius didn’t dare open his eyes or turn to look at Remus, but kept his fingers over the keys where they’d stopped, holding onto something intangible that had been there for a moment. He _ had _ felt _ something _, he was sure of that.

“That was…” Remus trailed off. “That was amazing.”

Sirius shrugged a shoulder, his eyes fluttering open but staying fixed on the keys. “I don’t believe I’m very good, in technical terms, at that middle section. I let myself get carried away with it a bit, with the inflection I think but I… like the sound of it too much to mind.”

“Bugger the technicality… er, sorry.” Remus stopped short.

Sirius’ head whipped around to look at Remus, a smile splitting across his face at Remus’ little outburst. “Mr. Lupin,” he chided, hoping the teasing note in his voice carried.

Remus looked surprised with himself. “I’m so sorry. I—that was the best you’ve ever played, Sirius.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said. _ Sirius _, he’d called him Sirius. “And really, I’d rather prefer it if you said bugger more often.”

“I shouldn’t, I’m supposed to be professional, I’m meant to be teaching you.”

“You’re teaching me the heart of it, not the technicalities, so you just said. Surely the odd _ bugger _ now and then helps with feelings.” Sirius couldn’t stop smiling now, some of his sadness and frustrated lifted with the sonata and then Remus’ slip-up. Seeing that there was a person behind the man that made him just do drills and stood with his hands clasped behind his back was intoxicating.

“If the word helps you do what you just did, I’ll have to drop it into conversation often.” Remus ran a hand through his curly hair. “If you want, I can have a better look at the middle part. I was enjoying it too much without really watching what you were doing.”

Sirius shifted in his seat, smiling. “If you’d like. I don’t think we have sheet music for it anymore. I’ve never… never played that for anyone else before.”

“I know it well enough, why don’t you go to the part you’re not sure about.” Remus moved closer to him.

“Mhmm.” Sirius watched him draw closer for a moment before he turned back to the piano. “It’s where it picks up a little, I can never quite get those beats quite right.” He took a deep breath, then started playing from a few bars before, the score burned into his memory.

Remus leaned against Sirius, his hip pressing for a moment against his shoulder, then, something hot and _ hard _ there too and it made Sirius’ breath catch in his throat and his own blood race. He didn’t dare turn around, as much as he wanted to, wanted to turn and _ see _ and look and haul Remus down to him to kiss him. Sirius’ fingers stuttered on the keys, slipping sideways in discordance as his concentration slipped.

Quickly Remus moved his hips back but stayed close to take Sirius’ wrist. “Here, this way.”

Sirius had to bite his back teeth together to stop the groan escaping his lips at Remus’ touch. He was sure the other man could feel his pulse hammering. “Okay,” he breathed, turning his head slightly to turn towards Remus, not taking his eyes from the keys. Heavens, he wanted to _ kiss _ this man and press against him. He’d never even thought about that with another man, not properly, only for fleeting moments but now he was thinking about it and couldn’t _ stop _ thinking about it. He wanted to kiss him and put his hand down Remus’ trousers and see him naked.

“Now try again.” Remus’ voice was low in his ear.

Eyes closing again, Sirius picked up from the same place, Remus’ fingers still around his wrist. The music flowed better, all of a sudden, Sirius hitting every beat, letting the music wash over him. Remus’ fingers were very warm.

“Good, that’s good.” Remus stroked his index finger on the underside of Sirius’ wrist, trailing up the vein there for a moment. He dropped his hand as Sirius finished then straightened up. “Looks like my time is up.”

“Oh.” Sirius turned a little, glancing at Remus from the corner of his eye. “Right you are.”

“I’ll see you Monday, Sirius.” Remus picked up his coat.

Sirius stood, half-regretting it immediately because his body was still insisting he seize Remus by the shoulders (despite not knowing what he would do with him once he’d done that), and he felt as if it must be painfully obvious to the other man. He nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. “On Monday, then.”

“I’ll be thinking of you when I look at the moon now, it seems. It really was beautiful.” He gave a soft smile before turning to leave.

By the time Sirius thought he should’ve answered, Remus was already halfway down the hallway. He watched the man retreating for a moment, before going back to the piano and starting _ Moonlight Sonata _ again, filled with inspiration.

* * *

It was moonlight again when Sirius snuck down to the music room that evening, shutting every door between there and the rest of the house. He drew the drapes back and let the moonlight in, thinking about Remus’ parting words to him—_ I’ll be thinking of you when I look at the moon _. 

At the piano bench Sirius sat up straight, watching the moonlight over the keys as he set his fingers to them, playing the opening few measures of the song, letting the deep familiar melody envelop his senses in concurrence with the luminescence settling in from outside.There was something breathtaking about the setting around him matching the music, a feeling that sat low in his chest, deep and meaningful, dark yet dreamy. 

He remembered Remus’ hand on his wrist, the hot press of what could only be his arousal against Sirius’ shoulder for a moment, the light caress of his fingers up the inside of Sirius’ arm, just for a moment. Sirius shivered at the thought of it. He’d never looked at a man like that, not really, not wanting to do what he wanted to do with Remus before. The fact of it frightened him slightly, but Sirius wasn’t one to cower away from things (the wrath of his mother excluded). He knew Remus was his teacher and they should have boundaries, but he was only just older than Sirius and he was so attracted to the man, foolishly so. Sirius couldn’t stop thinking of that curl of hair that grazed his forehead sometimes, the way he smiled as if he were caught off guard with it, the way he swore and then immediately flushed and corrected himself in the name of propriety. 

Sirius looked down at his fingers on the keys, remembering _ Remus’ _ fingers there only a few hours ago, demonstrating a phrase. Unbidden, Sirius’ hand slipped from the keys, landing in his lap and pressing over the erection burgeoning beneath his trousers. A moan slipped from his mouth at the sensation, imagining for a moment if it were Remus’ hand, fresh from playing, reaching over to curl his fingers around—

Sirius’ breath hitched as he unbuttoned his trousers, his fingers shaking, still sat at the piano bench where Remus had been sitting next to him only a few hours ago, aroused himself if what Sirius felt was anything to go by.

Heavens, what if Remus _ was _ sat next to him here, with his hand around Sirius’ cock instead of his own. Sirius groaned, tipping his head back and lifting his hips towards the touch, stroking himself slowly, carefully, wanting to enjoy it, here in the moonlight sat at the piano.

He could almost hear Remus’ voice, in his ear like it had been earlier, saying _ good, that’s good _ . Sirius couldn’t help the moan slipping from his lips and lifted his other hand to press over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. If he closed his eyes he could almost _ see _ Remus sat next to him and shivered at the thought.

But Remus wasn’t here tonight. Sirius wondered what he was doing, as he slid his fingers, curled in a loose fist, over himself, twisting his wrist. Would Remus be in bed right now? Would he be lying there looking at the moonlight, thinking of _Sirius_? He had been aroused earlier, Sirius was sure, he had felt it. Would he be _touching_ himself too? Sirius pressed his hand over his mouth to stifle a louder moan at the thought of Remus doing this too, at the same time somewhere else.

He could see Remus in his own bed, which looked strikingly similar to Sirius’ in his brain. Remus in his mind slept naked, his long lean body stretched out across the sheets. His talented fingers wrapped around his own cock. Stroking himself just like Sirius was stroking himself now.

Sirius matched the pace of Remus in his head, stroking himself in tandem, easing his thumb over the head to gather up the precome there. He imagined what it would be like to see Remus like that, to stand at the foot of the bed and watch him, wondering if he was thinking about Sirius. Covering his mouth wasn’t helping so much anymore so Sirius bit down around his knuckles, groaning as his ministrations brought him closer and closer to the edge. With the thought of Remus’ fingers at the piano, what those fingers would feel like, _ taste _ like, he closed his lips around his fingers, the tip of his tongue stroking over them. Oh, what if it were _ Remus’ _ fingers tracing over his bottom lip, probing his mouth, petting over his tongue.

Sirius let out a long moan as that thought pitched him over the edge of that metaphorical precipice, spilling into his hand. He came back to his senses all of a sudden, slumping over and resting his forehead on the keys. It only took him a few moments to clean up with the handkerchief in his pocket, fingers shaking. He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, then stood up. He couldn’t wait for Monday already.

He stole down to the music room two more times between lessons, to play the Moonlight Sonata and to think of Remus -- as the two had become inexplicably linked now. The days until Monday couldn’t pass quick enough so he could see the other man again. With his head full of thoughts about Remus, thankfully, time slipped by quickly.

On Monday, he sat at the piano, waiting for Remus to arrive, nearly _ jittering _ with excitement to see him.

Finally, well right on time, Remus arrived. “Good afternoon, Mr. Black.”

Sirius smiled seeing him, his eyes flickering all over the other man. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus walked into the room, taking his coat off. “May I ask you something?”

“Oh…” Sirius shifted on the piano bench, turning his body towards the other man. “Yes?”

“Do you mind me calling you Sirius? It just feels so odd calling you Mr. Black when we’re so close in age.” Remus ran a hand through his curls.

Sirius fought to keep the grin from his lips, but he was sure he’d lost. “No, I don’t mind it at all. So long as you don’t mind me calling you Remus.”

“No, I don’t.”

“So it’s settled then. Remus.”

“Sirius.” A smile curled across Remus’ lips. “What would you like to start with?”

Sirius licked his lips, glancing back to the sheet music. “I’m rather warmed up already,” he admitted. “I’ve been here for an hour or so already. So whatever piece you think we should work on.”

“Can you play me the Moonlight Sonata again? I’d like to see if your positioning is any better.”

“Yes, of course.” Sirius turned to the piano fully, adjusting his position and pushing his sleeves up a little, as he always did. The piece was coming easier and easier now, even if Sirius had been playing it for years. It had always flowed from Sirius’ fingers but now he didn’t even have to think about it. His wrists led the charge now, and perhaps his emotions even played a part as well, carrying him away into a different world as he played. It was soothing to hear the music fill the room around him, to put what felt like his true self out into the world, even if the world was merely confined to the music room with only himself and Remus Lupin to hear it. If only that were the case, if only the world consisted of just this room, just the two of them, and music. 

“It’s beautiful. Your positioning is perfect, and you really feel the piece, I can tell.” Remus touched Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius tried not to lean into the touch, tried not to get distracted by Remus’ hand on him. “Thank you,” he breathed, still playing, not daring to lift his eyes from the keys.

Remus moved his hand, briefly brushing his fingers over Sirius’ neck before he pulled away. “Do you have any other piece of music you feel passionate about?”

Sirius swallowed down a noise at his touch. “No… not really, just this one.” His voice sounded a little shaky with unresolved desire.

“What’s your favorite piece that you’re made to work on?” Remus tried that instead, coming to sit next to Sirius on the bench.

“I think my favourite of them is Chopin,” Sirius said, watching Remus draw closer, his body going taut when he sat beside them. “I like _ Nocturne in C Sharp Minor _.”

“Play that one then. Chopin is one of my favorites.”

Sirius nodded. “Yes, I remember you saying so.” He flipped through the pile of sheet music atop the piano, finding the _ Chopin _ _ — _ another haunting melody that spoke to Sirius, similar to _ Moonlight _, but lighter, like the dusk before the full moon. He didn’t remember it off by heart like he did others. He set the booklet onto the stand, stretched his fingers, adjusted his sleeves, and played.

It was a shorter piece, and Sirius played it softly, not necessarily because he felt that it was important, but because he knew that that was how it was to be performed. He felt a tinge of that _ something _ at the hauntingness of the sound as he played the broken chords. The melody shifted about two-thirds of the way in, turning into a dreamy _ pianissimo _ as Sirius stretched his hands to capture the soft repetitive second theme of the nocturne, but he knew now that it sounded hollow. And far too heavy. But he pushed through it, and the melody returned to the original theme, sadder now, full of reminiscence, to close out the nocturne in the same way that it had started. Sirius sighed as he held the finals notes, waiting for the newfound silence to break.

Next to him, Remus moved closer with his thigh pressing against his. “That was good, but let’s go back to the secondary theme here.” He pointed to the middle section of the piece.

“Okay.” Sirius watched his hand, following it to the music, before he nodded and started again there. He found this particular section a little hard, a little too whimsical, the natural shape his fingers instinctively wanted to take nothing like they should be. He bit his lip, concentrating hard.

Remus stopped him by wrapping a hand around his wrist. “You’re stretching too much when you don’t need to. You need to lead each movement with your wrist, let it carry you across the keyboard.

_ Oh _. Sirius leaned closer, tipping towards him a little. His fingers were very warm around Sirius’ wrist. “Show me.”

“Of course,” Remus said as he moved Sirius’ hands.

Sirius turned his head towards him, eyes fixed on the keys and Remus’ fingers around his. He could only think about Remus’ fingers, on the piano, on Sirius’ skin, on Remus’ skin too. Heavens, he was _ so close _ , he could just turn a little more, lean in and kiss him, kiss the sliver of exposed skin above his collar or his cheek or the corner of his mouth. Sirius didn’t dare lift his gaze from the music, because he couldn’t do that, _ could he _? Not to his piano teacher.

“Does that feel better?” Remus still hadn’t dropped Sirius’ wrist.

_ Damn it all, _ Sirius thought for a moment before he turned his head, ducked closer and kissed Remus square on the mouth.

Instead of pulling away or pushing Sirius back, Remus froze there for a moment. Then he did pull back with a surprised look on his face. “I…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius ushered out, feeling a little embarrassed all of a sudden. He hadn’t expected Remus to react like that.

“No, no, I…” Remus shook his head, standing up.

Sirius turned as he did, kneeling up on the piano bench. “Remus wait, I didn’t mean…”

Remus paused for a moment then charged forward, wrapping his arms around Sirius. His lips brushed against Sirius’ for a moment before he hauled Sirius up and onto the piano as he finally kissed him with everything he had. The sound of the piano keys beneath Sirius’ thighs rang through the room, discordant and loud, but Sirius didn’t care.

Sirius made a noise of surprise, his hands going to Remus’ shoulders to hold onto him as he kissed back with all he could give. Sirius had never kissed anyone like this but it was amazing. Sirius’ whole body went taut with Remus’ kiss, moaning softly into his mouth in response. As Remus pressed against Sirius, he ran his talented fingers over his neck then up into his hair. Remus’ tongue slid into Sirius’ curling around his own. Sirius felt like he couldn’t _ breathe _ with desire, Remus’ body against his as he sat on the keyboard of the piano, Remus between his knees. His fingers tangled up into Remus’ curls, running through them like he’d watched the man do so many times over their past few weeks together, like he’d wanted to do since that first day, as he kissed back.

The sound of footsteps came thundering down the hallway outside the music room, and it took a moment for the noise to reach Sirius’ ears, for him to understand what it meant. He didn’t _ want _ to push Remus away, didn’t care who caught them, just for a moment, because he was _ kissing _ Remus and it was so good.

Remus must have heard because he stepped out of reach, turning his back to Sirius just as the door to the music room opened. Sirius slipped from the piano keys and sat quickly, staring at the music with unseeing eyes. He lifted his gaze as Mary came into the room, giving her a strange look. She looked a little out of breath and she might’ve been running.

“Sorry sirs,” she said, pausing in the doorway. “Thought I heard a right racket and something might be wrong.”

Sirius nodded, taking a deep breath before his voice seemed to work. “No, Mary, it’s fine. I just got a little… frustrated is all. Thank you, though.”

Mary nodded, her wide eyes flickering between Sirius and Remus. “Right you are sir, sorry again.” She turned, reaching to pull the door closed behind her. Sirius could hear her footsteps retreating down the hallway over the top of his own heavy breathing.

Remus was silent behind Sirius, not moving or talking. Sirius took another deep breath, his lips tingling a little, before he stood up and circled around the bench towards the other man. “Remus…”

“I’m sorry.” Remus’ back was still to him, his voice hoarse.

Sirius furrowed his brow. “What for?”

“_ That _.” Remus’ hand went up then he finally turned around. “I’m meant to be your tutor.”

“So? You can do both, can’t you?” Sirius drew closer, his hands coming up to Remus’ arms.

“It’d be so inappropriate.” Remus shook his head.

“I wanted it. I kissed you first.” Sirius stepped closer still, trying to get the other man to at least _ look _ at him.

“I know you did but it’s still… it’s my job and you’re…” Remus looked to his feet.

“I’m what?” Sirius ducked his head into Remus’ eyeline.

“You’re my student. I can’t risk this. Your mother would murder me on sight if she caught us.”

Sirius chuckled. “I think she’d likely kill me rather than you.”

“God, this is all very unfair.” Remus looked up finally.

“Kiss me again,” was the only thing Sirius could say in reply.

“I want to, god, I do.” Remus’ eyes went to his lips.

Sirius leaned in and kissed him, as if he could do anything else with the way Remus was looking at him. Now that he knew what it felt like, he didn’t want to give it up, or never have it again.

Remus pulled back. “We can’t.” He sounded pained at the idea at least.

“Okay,” Sirius said softly, taking several steps back. “I want to.”

“I do too.” Remus rubbed a hand over his face.

Sirius went back to the piano bench, sitting heavily on the end of it. “Don’t be my teacher then, if that’s the problem.”

“Your mother won’t give me a good reference. What will I do for money?” He paced.

“I…” Sirius didn’t know. He’d never had to think about any of that, references or money or what to do next.

“If I didn’t have to worry… you’re so beautiful it nearly hurts to be around you.”

Sirius shook his head, his eyes shutting briefly. That was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to him and that _ hurt _ too. “Don’t...” He said softly— _ don’t make it worse, don’t say such beautiful things _.

“Okay.” Remus walked over to pick up his coat from where it hung over a chair. “I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Our hour isn’t up.”

“Just… practice your scales. I’ll tell your mother I’m feeling unwell.” Remus went for the door.

Sirius stood up, pacing a few steps forward before he thought better of it. It probably wasn’t a good idea to physically stop him from leaving, as much as Sirius didn’t want him to go. 

“I’m sorry.” Remus held on to the doorknob. “If things were different…”

“They can be different. We can make them different.” Sirius didn’t like that he felt as if he was pleading. He hated asking for anything.

“How? Tell me how and I’ll do it.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t have a plan, he just wanted to make this all happen. “Run away with me.”

“To where? With what money?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“I…” Sirius shook his head, sitting back on the end of the piano bench. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly. I’ll see you Thursday.” Remus opened the door and slipped out.

* * *

Thursday came around slowly. Sirius spent his evenings practising in the music room and paying half-attention to the rest of his other classes. That morning he sat at the piano, practising the _ Chopin _ piece he liked, and tried not to watch the clock on the mantelpiece. Remus was late.

Fifteen minutes past the hour, there were light footsteps down the hall. It wasn’t his mother, nor was it Remus. When the door opened Mary popped her head in. “Sir.”

“Mary,” Sirius said, turning towards the door. Mary was his favourite, even despite the fact she had interrupted their kiss on Monday. “Everything well?”

“Yes, sir, but Mr. Lupin is ill. He won’t make it for your lesson today.”

“Oh…” Sirius glanced at the keys, feeling frustration and _ anger _ curling in his stomach. He was running away, wasn’t he? “Thank you for letting me know, Mary.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” She smiled before turning out the door, leaving Sirius alone in the music room.

With a frustrated noise, Sirius slammed down the lid of the piano, pushed the bench back and strode out of the room. 

On Monday, Sirius didn’t bother going to the music room. He was convinced that Remus would not turn up this time either, and that the other man would string along some more excuses. He sat at the desk in his study, wondering if he could write a letter to Remus with just how ridiculous Sirius thought his actions were.

There was a knock on his door and Mary’s voice came through, “Sir, Mr. Lupin is waiting for you.”

“What a surprise,” Sirius muttered to himself, setting his quill down. “He’s feeling well then is he?” He calls to Mary, rising from his seat and striding to the door to pull it open.

“Yes, sir, he’s feeling better.”

“I suppose I better go down then. Thank you Mary.” He stepped out of his room, straightening his jacket, before starting down towards the music room. His footfalls echoed down the long hallway and the door was ajar enough to see a slice of the piano through it. When he pushed the door open, there was Remus, pacing back and forth.  
  
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin,” Sirius said, watching him.

“Mr. Black.” Remus stopped and look over at Sirius. “I apologize for not being here on Thursday.”

“No apologies needed.” Sirius knew he was being curt, but he had been so hurt by Remus walking out, he was _ still _ hurt by it. He was also desperately trying to ignore just how attractive Remus looked, even despite his bruised pride, and crossed to the piano bench to sit down.

“Let’s run scales, please.” Remus walked over to the piano.

Sirius nodded, stretched his hands, adjusted his sleeves and set his fingers to the keys. He didn’t lift his gaze to Remus, didn’t think about anything but the scales and the notes he was to hit. He knew they were a little mechanical, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Good, that’s good. Try the Chopin you played the other day, let’s look at the positioning again.” Remus took a seat next to Sirius. He seemed to be sitting on the very edge so he was as far from Sirius as possible.

“Right,” Sirius said, shifting in his seat. They were so close but so distant. “From the beginning?”

“Yes.” Remus nodded.

Sirius swallowed back another noise of annoyance. This felt awful. Instead, he began to play the Chopin from the beginning, trying to push aside all those negative feelings because a nocturne wasn’t the best piece for anger, he thought. Perhaps his wounded pride, though, that would help this piece. But if he thought about that too much, the fact that it was the man next to him who _ wounded _ his pride, then he’d think about his hurt too much.

“You’re doing the unneeded stretching again, Si—Mr. Black.” Remus interrupted him.

“It’s what my hand naturally wants to do.” Sirius stopped, pressing one hand against the other to stretch the muscles in his palm.

“I know, but you’re hindering your play doing that.” Remus shook his head. “I showed you last time.”

“Yes, well lots of things happened during our last lesson,” Sirius said curtly, glancing sideways to Remus, then back to the keys. He started playing again, not even caring if Remus would reply or not.

“Yes, well, we need to focus on what I’m here for.” Remus wrapped his hand around Sirius’ wrist. “Like this, Mr. Black.”

Sirius froze under his touch, the feel of his fingers sending prickles of sensation up his arm. He wanted to twist his own wrist and take Remus’ hand instead. He wanted to say something snarky and full of wit but the words didn’t come, his brain instead warring between desire and frustration.

“You need to have your hand like this. It’s much easier, far less straining. Lead with your wrist, as I said before. Let it float your hand across the keys. It will be easier to move from here as well,” he explained quietly as he readjusted Sirius’ hand and fingers.

“Right,” Sirius agreed, testing his reach in that better position for the keys. It is easier, but he won’t tell Remus that.

“Okay, try again.” Remus finally let go of his hand.

Sirius nodded, backing up a few measures before beginning to play again, this time focusing on the sway of his wrist to get his fingers from one octave of the piano to the next. The melody came easier that time, didn’t come with an annoying shooting pain up his wrist or an uncomfortable cramp in his fingers. It flowed now, and easily so. Remus was a good piano teacher, and that was frustrating.

“Excellent.” Remus clapped his hands. “Do you have any other pieces you like, but you’re not sure about positioning or technique?”

Sirius shrugged. “What do you suggest?”

“You’re the one learning, I want you to pick. I won’t force you to play something you dislike.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck.

“Right,” Sirius huffed. Remus wouldn’t force him to play something he disliked, but he would do things that were downright hurtful to Sirius without caring. Without looking sideways he picked out Mozart’s _ Rondo Alla Turca _ from the piles of sheet music and began playing. This was a piece Sirius knew he was technically very good at. If Remus wanted him to pick, then Sirius would pick a song he could do nothing with.

“You know you play that just fine.” Remus stood up. “I’ll go, you clearly don’t need me.”

Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. “Fine.”

“I’ll let your mother know there’s nothing I can offer you for instruction. I’ll do my best to get a decent reference from here, that way you won’t have to deal with me.” Remus picked up his coat.

Sirius snorted, trying to ignore the cold dread dripping down his spine. “You’d give up a well paying job like this, after all your talk of money last time?”

“It’s better than to sit here and deal with this, I think.” Remus stood by the door.

“Deal with this?” Sirius spat. He stood up from the bench, drawing a little closer to Remus. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your attitude because you can’t get what you want for once in your life.”

Sirius shook his head. “My attitude? You’re the one stuck in the mud. You’re the one who refused to do anything about… _ this _.”

“Because I can’t do anything about _ this _, Mr. Black. Even if I weren’t worried about my position here, then the outside world doesn’t exactly take to kind to people like us. I’m trying to be your teacher, that’s all.” Remus’ voice was firm and even.

“The outside world isn’t here. The door’s closed, this room is it’s own universe, Mr. Lupin. What does outside matter when we’re in here?”

“But we’re not in our own universe, your mother or the servants could come in at any point. It’s not… it’s impossible.”

Sirius shook his head. “You don’t even want to take the chance.”

“I do, Sirius, and it’s bloody terrifying.” Remus closed his eyes.

“Then do it. Whatever happens we can deal with it.” Sirius took another step closer, like Remus might be a wild animal. He didn’t want to spook him and send the other man running off down the hallway.

“It’s not logical to do this. It’s better if we stay as it’s meant to be.”

“Bugger logic. You told me I have to acknowledge my feelings to play properly, to get bookings, to get anywhere in life, and here you are ignoring yours!”

“Sometimes feelings are anger and frustration, Sirius.” Remus leaned against the door.

“Well then we’re on the same page, Remus.” Sirius stepped close enough to put his hands on Remus’ arms.

“So, I either need to quit and never see you again, or I need to stay and we need to continue on with your lessons.”

Sirius’ stomach twisted at the idea of not seeing Remus again. From this close he just wanted to kiss him and cast aside all the problems and issues that doing that might bring. If Remus quit, he would struggle to find a job better paying than this one, or even half as secure. So the only option was the latter. “Fine,” he said, but didn’t move back. “Stay.”

“Okay, now really, pick a piece you actually want to work on.” Remus looked to his feet.

Sirius took a step back, running a hand over his hair. “I want to play _ Moonlight Sonata _ again.”

“If you feel you need more work, yes, that’s fine.” Remus stayed by the door.

“I’ll play it once, then. Just… let me play that.” Sirius frowned to himself as he trailed back to the piano bench. Perhaps that piece was his way of _ feeling _ and he just needed to sink into it for a moment. “Then, there’s a Schubert piece I can never get.”

“Okay, whatever you want.” Remus finally moved from the door.

Sirius sat down, took a deep breath, adjusted his sleeves and started to play _ Moonlight Sonata _. He knew he didn’t need to practise it, but he wanted to, just for a moment of respite within this. He wanted Remus to understand that he could make whatever risks they ended up taking pay off, he had the means to do so. Even if Sirius ran away from home, he was sure he’d have enough money to have things however they wanted. His Uncle lived in France, maybe they could go there, and from what he heard, things were more lenient on the continent. Whatever happened, Sirius just wanted a moment longer with Remus in the music room.

“It’s definitely the most beautiful thing that you play.” Remus put a hand on his shoulder.

Sirius’ eyes shuttered for a moment when Remus touched him. He took a breath, his fingers still floating over the keys, then tilted his head a little, leaning into Remus’ touch, leaning his temple against Remus’ forearm.

“You don’t need to work on it one bit, but I could hear you play it all day.” Remus removed his hand carefully, stepping back from Sirius. “We should try the Schubert piece.”

“We should,” Sirius admitted, letting the last notes of the song fade out into the silence of the room. He didn’t want to, he wanted to turn around and kiss Remus. He closed his eyes, just for a moment to try and preserve this, if he wasn’t going to get it again, before flicking through the sheet music to find the Schubert. Sirius was headstrong and spoiled in a lot of ways, like Remus said, but he also knew, knew now at least, he supposed, when he should step back. If pushing Remus like that would make it worse for him, then perhaps he would just have to learn not to want it.

Remus’ hand brushed across his back as he moved to the other side of the room, away from Sirius. “What’s the piece you want to work on?”

Sirius suppressed a shudder. “_ Impromptus 4 _,” he said, finding the sheet music and setting it on the stand.

“Very good.”

“The opening isn’t too awful once you get the fingering and the cadence now, which I have now. But when the right hand pattern fades into the background and the left hand takes the lead,, I’m presuming I’m doing something wrong.” Sirius kept his mind firmly on the music in front of him, starting at the beginning. That bit he could play fine, as he said, but later on, it didn’t quite all fit together. The timing was off. Or was it the emphasis that was throwing everything off? He wasn’t sure. The melody wasn’t shining through in the jumble of notes he read off the sheet music in front of him. It felt like a giant mess, and it sounded like one too, Sirius was sure.

The rest of the lesson seemed to crawl by. Remus instructed Sirius through the Schubert piece, standing just behind him, out of his periphery. He didn’t lean over and correct Sirius’ positioning or anything like that, even though Sirius still couldn’t quite get one position right. He didn’t mind so much, he tried to tell himself, because surely Remus’ touch would be worse now, after all of that.

“Okay, it’s time for me to go now.” Remus cleared his throat.

Sirius turned a little on the bench, glancing over to the other man. “Will I see you on Thursday, this time?”

“Yes, of course. I actually was ill. It was poor timing.” Remus scoffed as he grabbed his coat again.

“You were?” Sirius frowned a little. He was sure Remus was avoiding him on purpose. “I’m… glad you’re recovered, then.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I am too. I’ll see you Thursday.” Remus opened the door, walking out of the door silently.

* * *

Sirius was walking down the staircase in the main foyer when Mary opened the front door to Mr. Lupin on Thursday. He stopped on the bottom stair and watched for a moment before either noticed him. He thought he was early in going down to the music room but perhaps he’d gotten a little caught up in the bath after all. His parents were out today going to Epsom for the Derby, and Sirius couldn’t be gladder for the timing. They’d suggested he might come along, but Sirius made excuses of wanting to devote himself more fully for the time being to his studies. Thankfully his mother had taken that excuse, along with a few choice barbs at his abilities, and left Sirius alone in the house except for a skeleton staff, like Mary.

He didn’t make his presence known right away as Mary stepped aside to let the man in. She was probably eager to shut the door again because it was bitterly cold out there.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin sir,” Sirius heard her say, as he leaned against the bannister of the staircase and put one hand in his jacket pocket.

“Mr. Black, good afternoon.” Remus smiled up at him as he took his hat off.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin.” Sirius smiled as he stepped off the last step. “Awful out there, isn’t it?”

“Freezing. I can barely feel my toes.” He took off his heavier overcoat and Mary took it. “Thank you, Mary.”

“Mary, could you make sure the fire in the music room is well stocked, please?” Sirius asked, with a kind smile. His parents treated their servants badly, but Sirius didn’t. He liked them all, really and Mary especially. 

“Right you are sir,” Mary replied, already starting off down the hallway towards the room. 

Sirius paused at the branch of the hallway, hearing Mary bustle around just beyond the door for a moment. He wanted to say something to Remus, wanted to grab him and kiss him or something like it. The tip of his nose was a little pink from the cold outside, he was so very beautiful.

“I think I need to do some warm ups if I’m going to play at all.” Remus snickered as he walked towards Sirius.

“I’d like you to play, if only to keep you warm,” Sirius admitted, smiling softly.

“Ah, I see.” Remus grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Sirius glanced down the hallway to the door still ajar, then back to Remus. “Here,” he said, stepping forward and pressing his hands either side of Remus’, over his fingers. They really were very cold and Sirius was nicely warm from the bath and the well stocked fires throughout the manor. “I’m rather warm, anyway.”

“You are.” The pink in Remus’ cheeks seemed to deepen. “Thank you.”

“Here you are sirs,” came Mary’s voice from the other end of the hallway. Sirius glanced down towards her and dropped Remus’ hands—reluctantly. It seemed she was giving them a moment’s warning before she opened the door, because then it drew back and she stepped out with a smile. “It’ll be all toasty in there now for you.”  
  
Sirius smiled, feeling the flush in his own cheeks at Remus’ reaction, then stepped aside to allow Mary past. “Thank you Mary.”

“No problem at all sir. Call if you need anything, sir.” Mary smiled, the dimple in her left cheek showing, as she walked past. 

Sirius just nodded. He wondered if Mary might have picked up on something, and maybe this might be her way of letting them have privacy in the music room. Now if only Sirius could convince Remus to just take that risk.

“Thank you, Mary,” Remus said again as he started for the room.

Sirius watched the other man for a moment, enjoying the sight of him as he walked down the hallway, before he took a deep breath and followed. He shut the door behind him as he stepped in.

“So, what shall we work on, Sirius?” Remus looked over to him with a smile.

“I…” Sirius trailed off, looking Remus over for a long moment, before he closed the gap between them, took Remus’ face in his hands, and kissed him.

Remus tensed for a moment before kissing back, his hands going to Sirius’ hips then trailing up his back. “Mmm, we shouldn’t.” He pulled back a fraction to whisper but then went back to kiss him.

“To Hell with all of that,” Sirius said, meeting his kiss again. It felt so good to kiss him like this, again, after he’d been thinking about it for so long.

The other man pressed Sirius back against the wall, one hand wandering down to his hip and the other going up to Sirius’ hair. He nipped at his lip before his tongue laved over the spot. Sirius made a soft noise into the kiss, his hands sliding over Remus’ waist, one straying down over his thigh, just eager to map how he felt beneath Sirius’ fingers. The kiss was making his head spin as he kissed back. Sirius had kissed women before like this, with tongues and teeth, but never a man, and he was sort of relieved to find it was largely the same, his insides still thrilled and twisted at it, and he still wanted to haul Remus closer.

“Sirius,” Remus mumbled against his lips. “What about everything we talked about?” The hand that had been to Sirius’ hair dropped to his shoulder.

“To Hell with it all. We’ll think about that later.” Sirius kissed him again, his hands trailing around to Remus’ back and down his spine. “We’ll go somewhere.” Another kiss. “Do something.”

“Where? How?” He sighed into another kiss. “How? God, I want you so much, but…”

“You can have me,” Sirius answered immediately. “My Uncle is in France, let’s go there. After. We’re here now though, be here with me first.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Remus shook his head. “I’m so terrified about what will happen if I let this happen.”

“Don’t think about after.”

“I always think ahead.” He stepped back, hand going through his hair as he went towards the piano.

Sirius followed him, his hand going to Remus’ lower back. He could feel his heart hammering from that kiss, from Remus pressed against him. He trailed his hand around to Remus’ hip. “What do I have to do to stop you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Remus rubbed his face.

Sirius pressed closer, his lips brushing over the top of Remus’ shoulder. “Kiss me again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you or get hurt.” Remus shook his head. “I’ve hurt you already.”

“You won’t hurt me again, I know it. Just kiss me.”

“What if we can’t do this?” Remus’ lips hovered close to Sirius’.

Sirius leaned in, tongue wetting his bottom lip. “We can, we can figure everything out after.”

Resolve seeming to break, Remus pulled Sirius against him and pressed their lips together. He kissed Sirius with renewed passion. Sirius kissed back immediately, his hands mapping over Remus’ back as he took the lead for a moment, his tongue swiping over Remus’ lip.

Remus pushed him back against the piano, the lid still down. “Mmm, god,” he hummed then went back to Sirius’ mouth.

Sirius groaned softly, kissing back deeply as he hopped up onto the lid of the keys, pulling Remus close with his hands on his hips. His hands slid up Remus’ side to his chest, trailing over the olive green of his jacket.

With his deft fingers, Remus undid the buttons of Sirius’ waistcoat. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you like this.” Remus kissed down his jaw then to the pale column of his neck.

“Yeah, oh, me too, me too—” Sirius swallowed, tipping his chin back a little as he hooked one foot around Remus’ thigh and pulled the other man between his legs— “I keep thinking about you.”

Remus pushed the waistcoat off and rolled his hips against Sirius. “You’re so beautiful — handsome… I can’t stand it.” He nipped at his neck before kissing back up to his lips.

“Oh…” Sirius shuddered at the contact, running his hands down to Remus’ stomach, plucking at his waistcoat buttons. “I keep thinking about you when I come and practise at night. You’re so…”

“Yes, yes.” Remus pushed down Sirius’ suspenders before pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

Sirius groaned, breaking the kiss to glance down between them and see Remus’ hands on him. He wanted this so badly, he didn’t quite know what to _ do _ now he had it but his head was spinning and Remus’ mouth tasted lovely.

Once Remus got his shirt out, he pulled the hem up to get it off of Sirius. Sirius lifted his arms over his head, glad for the warmth of the room now. He was sort of spurred on by his own impending nakedness and set back to the buttons of Remus’ waistcoat, pulling them undone and shoving it off of his shoulders as quick as he could. He leaned into kiss Remus on a gasp, pulling at his suspenders.

The other man’s hands skimmed up Sirius’ back then over his sides and stomach.

“Remus…” Sirius breathed, pulling his shirt untucked and rucking it up. “I want—I want to see you.”

“Whatever you want, Sirius, as long as I can see you too.” Remus let him get his shirt off before his own hands went to undo his trousers.

Sirius couldn’t look away from Remus in front of him as he pushed a hand through his hair to smooth it back from his face. “You are so handsome.”

“You are too.” Remus kissed him softly. “I wanted you since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Me too, me too.” Sirius leaned in, cupping Remus’ face as he kissed him for a moment before his hands dropped to the fastening of Remus’ trousers. He wanted this so badly.

“Have you ever — ever been with another man?” Remus’ voice was filled with curiosity as he pushed Sirius’ trousers and pants down.

Sirius shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat at the admission. “No, I—never.”

“What do you want to do?” Remus’ fingers ghosted down his stomach.

“I…” Sirius’ breath hitched at Remus’ touch, glancing down almost to confirm to himself that yes, he was stood naked in front of this man. He pushed at Remus’ trousers. “I just want… just want you.”

“Can I touch you?” Remus’ asked him softly.

“Yes,” was Sirius’ answer, his fingers finally behaving and letting Remus’ trousers and underwear fall from his hips. “Oh…” Sirius’ breath caught in his throat at Remus’ nakedness, the jut of his cock that Sirius couldn’t look away from.

Remus’ mouth found his again as he wrapped a hand around Sirius, giving him a slow stroke.

The noise that spilled from Sirius’ mouth into the kiss surprised him, his hips jerking forward a little. He trailed his fingers down Remus’ stomach, then grazed over his cock. Sirius knew how to touch himself, but would it be the same for Remus? 

“Mmm,” Remus made a noise into the kiss at the light touch as he continued to stroke his hand over Sirius slowly and lightly.

“Ah…” Sirius broke the kiss, glancing down between them and moaning at the sight of Remus’ hand around him. “Oh gods… I want—I want my mouth…” Sirius didn’t know where that came from, but his insides turned molten and twisted at the prospect of tasting Remus’ skin, of having his mouth around him.

“Yes?” Remus pulled back a little.

“Yes,” Sirius said quickly, his gaze flickering up to Remus. “I don’t… don’t know how, but I want you in my mouth.”

“I can tell you, if you really want that.”

Sirius’ stomach clenched. “Yes, I want that.”

“Okay, ah, on your knees then? I’ll sit on the bench.” Remus gave him one more stroke before kissing him.

“Ah… yes, yes.” Sirius pulled back, straightening up a little, touching his fingers to his mouth as his gaze flickered down over Remus. Heavens, look at him in the firelight, looking like _ that _.

Remus smiled then stepped back, blindly reaching for the bench as his eyes trailed over Sirius’ body. Sirius waited a moment until Remus sat on the bench, before he slid from the piano, then to his knees, one hand on Remus’ knee to hold himself upright because he felt so lightheaded.

“Okay, take me in your hand.” Remus’ fingers combed through Sirius’ hair.

Sirius bit his lip, letting out a breath as he trailed his fingers up Remus’ thigh and over the crease of his hip to curl around the base of his cock. Sirius didn’t think cocks could be as perfect and beautiful as Remus’ was, but heavens, every bit of him was lovely.

“Use — use your tongue and lick up.”

Sirius’ gaze flickered up to Remus, then back down to his lap, as he leaned in and gave a tentative swipe with the flat of his tongue over the head, up over the slit.

“Ah, ah, yes.” Remus’ eyes fluttered closed then opened again. “Swirl your tongue over the head.”

“Mhmm,” Sirius hummed, doing as he asked. The hand curled around him stroked slowly as Sirius curled his tongue around Remus’ cock. He’d been on the receiving end of this once before, Miss McKinnon before she’d left, and it had felt so bloody wonderful, he hoped he was doing something similar. His gaze flickered up to Remus again, eager to make the other man feel good.

Remus’ fingers went through his hair again as he let out a low moan. “Wrap your lips around me but — fuck, but mind your teeth.”

Smiling at that phrase—and the curse word that fell from Remus’ mouth—Sirius made sure his lips were covering his teeth as he ducked his head and took Remus’ cock into his mouth. The warm weight of it on his tongue felt so good and Sirius’ eyes fluttered shut for a moment, swirling his tongue again.

“Now, just take me in, as much as you — ah, oh god — as you can.” Remus was panting.

“Mmmm…” Sirius breathed in through his nose, still stroking his fist over the base of Remus’ cock as he bobbed his head a little lower, drawing Remus deeper into his mouth and sucking lightly--he remembered that it felt _ fantastic. _

“Fuck, oh, Sirius, just keep going, you can — whatever feels right.” Remus moaned again, one hand clenching his own thigh.

_ Whatever feels right _. Sirius thought he knew what feelings were now, thought that he could draw on them properly now because of this man, he could just trust his own instincts. Sirius bobbed his head up, then down again a little deeper, in tandem with his hand as he sucked a little harder. He must have been doing something right because Remus was making the most wonderful noises. His head was tipped back now, mouth open just a bit. Sirius drew back to breathe for a moment, still moving his hand as he swallowed and licked his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” he murmured, glancing up to Remus before he took him back into his mouth again, tonguing up the sensitive underside as he did.

“Ah, you’re — you’re a fast learner.” Remus looked back down at Sirius.

Sirius hummed in agreement, taking Remus deeper, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked a little harder. He loved this, making the other man stumble over his words and moan. He had been thinking about what Remus’ moans sounded like ever since that first night he had snuck down to the piano, after Moonlight Sonata, and they sounded even sweeter than he’d imagined.

“I’m so close.” Remus’ voice was low and breathless.

Sirius might’ve been inexperienced but he wasn’t stupid, he knew what that meant. He hummed softly, not wanting to pull back, not yet. He sped up the rhythm of his hand just a little, laving his tongue over Remus’ cock.

“Ah, oh fuck.” Remus tensed, hips lifting a bit as he came. Sirius managed to brace himself for a moment as Remus spilled into his mouth, swallowing around the head. It didn’t taste half as bad as he’d imagined, he quite _ liked _ it actually, not to mention the noise Remus made as he pressed up against Sirius. “You’re so good. Oh, fuck, so good.”

Sirius closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of Remus’ thigh twitching beneath his hand and his cock twitching beneath his other hand and in his _ mouth _ . He swallowed again, pulling back as Remus let out a breath. Sirius brought his hand to his mouth, wiping at the corner of his lips where he wasn’t quite sure if it was spit or come but he didn’t quite _ care _.

“Come here and kiss me.” Remus tugged on his hand.

Climbing to his feet, Sirius leaned in and kissed Remus, a little conscious of the taste lingering in his mouth as his hands went to Remus’ shoulders. He felt a bit unsteady, vaguely lightheaded, and his cock was throbbing desperately.

Remus leaned up and kissed him, his tongue teasing into Sirius’ mouth for a moment before he pulled back. “What do you want?”

Sirius groaned softly, his eyes flickering over Remus’ face. “Whatever you want.”

“Sit on the bench, please? I want to return the favor.” Remus kissed him once more.

“Oh gods,” Sirius mumbled, his hand tightening on Remus’ shoulders. “Okay, yes.”

Remus rubbed his hands up Sirius’ sides then sort of navigated him to the bench. Sirius shifted a little as he did, licking his lips. He’d sat there so many times but heavens, he’d never felt so alive before. With one more kiss, Remus got on his knees between Sirius’ legs, and kissed down his stomach before wrapping a hand around Sirius. “Your cock is so nice.”

A moan slid from Sirius’ lips as he braced one hand on the bench next to him, unable to tear his gaze away from Remus like that. He was so attractive and it felt like Sirius’ whole body was humming in anticipation. Looking up at him, Remus tongued at his head for a moment before wrapping his lips around it and sucking just a bit. “Oh gods… gods, I—” Sirius gasped, lifting one hand and trailing his fingers over Remus’ cheek as he tried to stay present against the wave of pleasure.

“You taste good.” Remus pulled back for a moment, grinning up at Sirius.

Sirius’ breath caught at that assertion, how genuine Remus sounded when he said it, the earnest look in his eyes, the smile on his face. He traced his fingers up Remus’ temple and through into his hair.

Remus leaned into the touch for a moment before his mouth went back to Sirius, taking him in his mouth fully.

“Ohhh, gods,” Sirius moaned, watching his cock disappear into Remus’ mouth. “You’re—oh—so good at that.”

Remus moaned around Sirius’ cock then his tongue did something fantastic as he bobbed his head. Sirius shuddered, his hips lifting up a little. He could feel the heat curling in his stomach, tightening, and he didn’t want this to end yet. Trailing one hand to Remus’ shoulder, he dug his fingers in a little. “Rem—Remus, up, come up here, please.”

He furrowed his brow as he pulled back, but did as asked. Remus moved to sit next to Sirius. “What is it?”

“I—gods, I don’t want this to end yet,” Sirius breathed, leaning in to kiss Remus, his hands skimming over Remus’ sides.

“We can do it again, it’s all right.” Remus pressed his lips to Sirius’ jaw, wrapping a hand around Sirius’ cock again.

Sirius nodded, biting his lip around another moan. He leaned in towards Remus’ touch, his eyes flickering down to his lap again. Remus’ long fingers were so talented and capable and they felt _ so good _. He twisted his wrist up, teeth scraping along Sirius’ jaw. “Yeah,” Sirius mumbled, watching Remus’ hand over his cock, awestruck. “Yeah we can do it again. Ah…”

“As many times as you want.” Remus’ lips worked up his jaw as his hand became firmer.

“Yeah.” Sirius dropped his head back, moaning. “You’re so good—with your hand—_ oh _.”

Remus’ teeth gently tugged at Sirius’ earlobe before his tongue traced the curve of its shell. His hand continued to work, stopping to thumb over the slit for a moment.

This is just like how I imagined, Sirius thought for a moment, back to that first night he’d sat here and brought himself off thinking of Remus. Better, though, infinitely better. “Ah… I imagined this, you know. Your--your hand around me, sat here.”

“You did?” Remus smiled before he pressed kisses to his shoulder. “I thought about you like this at night in my bed.”

“Yeah. I sat right here… thought—thought about you playing that _ Chopin _, your hands.” Sirius groaned, his hips shifting against the onslaught of pleasure, wanting to drag this out as much as he could.

“Now my hands are on you, making you feel good.” Remus kissed up to his neck.

Sirius grinned, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling for a moment as he shuddered. “I had—ah, gods—had my fingers in my mouth, wishing they were yours.”

Remus’ free hand came up to Sirius’ lips as he continued to work the one around his cock. One long finger traced his bottom lip as he smiled at Sirius in a way that made his stomach do a flip. Sirius groaned, keeping Remus’ gaze as he caught Remus’ finger between his lips, swirling his tongue just like Remus had said to do only moments ago. His stomach was in knots, heat clenching through his limbs. He didn’t want this to end, but he didn’t have a choice.

“Like this?” Remus asked, pupils blown with desire as he watched Sirius.

Sirius’ cock gave a twitch at that, looking back at Remus as he did, and he _ knew _ Remus could feel it too. “Mmhm.”

The hand around him worked quickly as Remus slid another finger into his mouth. “I want to do this forever.”

Sirius let out a soft moan around Remus’ fingers, his eyes finally slipping closed. Forever sounded wonderful, forever sounded like they could run away and find somewhere beautiful to make music together. It was that thought, with Remus’ hand around his cock and his fingers against Sirius’ tongue, that pushed him over the edge. Sirius cried out as he came, hips jerking upwards as he dropped his head back.

“You’re so perfect, shit.” Remus kissed him on the jaw as he continued to work him through his climax.

There he was, swearing again and it made Sirius grin, pulling back from Remus’ fingers—reluctantly—to gasp a breath. “Mr. Lupin,” he chided, smiling ear to ear as he tilted his head onto Remus’ shoulder.

Remus laughed, letting go of Sirius. “Very funny.”

Sirius heaved a breath as he sank into Remus, biting his lip. He had said before this that they could think about where to go after, but he didn’t want to think about that _ just _yet. He wanted to bask in this for a moment longer, Remus laughing, naked and handsome. Remus wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead with a contented sigh.

After a moment or two, already thinking he couldn’t give this up, Sirius straightened, kissing the corner of Remus’ mouth. “I’m going to write to my uncle.”

“Hmm?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to write to my uncle and we can go to France.”

“Really?” Remus pulled back a little. “You would, really?”

Sirius smiled, peering up at Remus. Why did he sound so surprised. “Yes. Of course.”

“I’m just… you’re…” Remus shook his head, smiling but looked to be in complete disbelief.

Sirius traced the line of Remus’ jaw with his thumb. “Let’s do it, let’s just run away.”

“Ye-yes, yes. I want that.” Remus nodded. “I can’t believe it, but yes.”

* * *

_ One Year Later _

Sirius strolled out of the bedroom, fastening the buttons on the cuff of his shirt. He had been listening to the piano from there, but it sounded better in here. The piano was by the full-height sash windows and the sunset beyond them was all pink and orange.

Remus sat at the piano, playing away something new he had been composing. Sirius had found that the man wrote his own music after they had been together the first time. The song he was playing now was gentle and slow, full of warmth and love. As he finished, he turned to Sirius with a smile, notes hanging in the air. “Good evening, you lovely creature.”

“Evening, handsome,” Sirius murmured, enjoying the way the music resonated around the room. He crossed over to the piano, looking at Remus backlit by the sunset. “That was beautiful.”

“It should be, it’s about you.” Remus held his hand out. “Come play with me.”

“About me?” Sirius shook his head, slipping his hand into Remus’ and skirting around to sit on the bench next to him. 

“Of course, my muse.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, nudging his elbow into Remus’ side. This place was theirs now. Running away to France hadn’t been as hard as he thought it would, and Uncle Alphard was only too happy to put up his nephew and his _ friend _ up for a while. Then, it didn’t take much longer before Alphard realised they were lovers, and all but _ insisted _ on setting them up with an apartment in Paris. 

“You’re my muse too then,” Sirius retorted, smiling widely at the other man. He adjusted his sleeves. “What shall we play?”

“Of course.” Remus kissed his cheek. “Hmm, how about _ Canon in D Major _?”

_ “Pachelbel’s Canon _?” Sirius smiled, stretching his fingers. “Alright.”

“Yes, the one that we play the most together.” Remus nudged his shoulder with his own.

“I want the right hand.” Sirius fluttered his fingers over the keys, rolling his eyes at Remus.

“As always.” Remus chuckled.

Sirius started, his gaze shifting from the keys to Remus’ face then back again. He set the pace, letting the music flow through him. He didn’t even have to _ think _ now, just looked at Remus and the piano in front of the sunset, and all the music in the world just came flooding out.


End file.
